


Two of a Kind

by dicksoutforproblematiccontent



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe: Sephiroth and Cloud are brothers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Brother/Brother Incest, Child Abuse, Child Soldiers, Childbirth, Codependency, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, Dubious Morality, Even In Death, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, For as far as that's possible in Shinra, God Complex, Hojo is His Own Warning, Human Experimentation, Insanity, Inseparable Bond, Learning how to act Human, Love, M/M, Medical Torture, Mental Instability, Messiah Complex, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Not Knowing What Sex Is, Panic Attacks, Safer Sephiroth is now Safer SephCloud, Sexual Inexperience, Sibling Incest, Soul Fusion, Temporary Character Death, Together forever, True Love, War Crimes, ask to tag, now with art!, silliness, there is some fluff I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicksoutforproblematiccontent/pseuds/dicksoutforproblematiccontent
Summary: Snapshots of the birth, life, and death of Sephiroth and Cloud as Hojo's experiments, Shinra's loyal attack dogs, demons of Wutai, war heroes, the faces of propaganda, humans-in-training, and eventualy, world destroyers.Most importantly, their birth, life, and death as brothers, lovers.Their lives have never been easy, but one thing has been true for as long as they've existed:Whatever comes their way, they'll face it together.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 19
Kudos: 139





	Two of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> The fandom Frollos said "Sefikura is incest." 
> 
> I said "That's a GREAT idea. Let's make it happen."
> 
> Thus, this behemoth of a fic was born.
> 
> If you've read the tags, you'll know that this fic is more than just "hot incest luvin" however. This universe gained a life of its own as I wrote it, and honestly? I kind of love it. I hope you do, too, but please don't be afraid to click away if you encounter something that squicks you. This fic is honestly just kind of my baby that I wrote for Me, with my likes and dislikes in mind. If it happens to line up with your own tastes, however, that's great! Let me know about it, baby!
> 
> As a side note, this work expects you to have at least some knowledge about both Crisis Core and FFVII, mostly towards the end. It's not the end of the world if you don't, but some things may get a bit confusing.
> 
> Obligatory "fiction is not the same as reality, what are you, three?" disclaimer. In other words: Don't like; don't read.
> 
> If you feel like I've missed a tag, feel free to let me know!
> 
> *edit*  
> Hello all, my good friend Alex (@GrossestHouse) has made some really, REALLY neat art for this fic! Specifically, for the section of the fic where Seph and Cloud have a good ol' frottage session. Please go give their art a like and retweet over here:
> 
> https://twitter.com/GrossestHouse/status/1277891971646992384?s=19
> 
> Enjoy!

A scream tears through the calm town of Nibelheim.

Lucrecia Crescent, soon mother-to-be, squirms in agony as contractions wreck her body, her breaths coming out in short, pained gasps. Her husband, one professor Hojo, stands between her legs, doing pitifully little to comfort the straining woman as she pushes and cries, swollen stomach rippling with the effort.

No, his focus is on the child that the woman was so desperately trying to get out- its head crowning. Not much longer, now, he reminds himself, excitement coursing through his body as his wife grits her teeth and pushes, once again, forcing the small thing out of herself.

Not much longer, and he would know if his experiment had been a success.

He rarely dares get his hopes up, but this is one of those rare times. He’s _certain_ of his success, certain that he’s accomplished more than that quack of a Hollander- that that man dared to call himself a scientist was absolutely laughable.

As if he could ever hope to outdo Hojo with his two failures. The man would be lucky to keep his position under Gast Faremis, once Hojo shows the doctor his own creations.

_Yes._

How ecstatic Hojo had been when his wife had told him she was expecting twins. That gave him not just one, but a whopping _two_ subjects for project S. Not that he believes he’d ever need more than one, but well- he can’t deny the _convenience_ of having a backup, should one of them perish- or _worse_ , turn out to be a failure.

Not that either one will be a failure. Hojo had made _sure_ of it.

A drawn out groan echoes through the air as Lucrecia pushes one final time- and Hojo reaches out to pull out the rest of the firstborn child, wasting no time in cutting the umbilical cord. To his irritation, however, the infant shows little signs of life- no screaming as it takes its first breath, shallow and weak. Had he made a mistake? That’d be extremely unfortunate- but worse come to worse, he can still use this one’s body to experiment on- it isn’t often he gets hold of the body of a child this young, and even dead, it would be useful to him.

He doesn’t have much time to contemplate what to do with the unresponsive child, before Lucrecia starts pushing again, the second one fast on its way. Hojo puts the firstborn into an incubator that had been prepared beforehand- no sense in holding onto it- before moving to help extract the second one from his wife. This one moves along much quicker than the last one- thank _god_ \- and within minutes of the first being born, the second is in Hojo’s arms.

The moment the younger child starts wailing, the elder, interestingly, seems to jolt to life as well- twin screams filling the room as Hojo places the second child next to the first. He watches, fascinated, as the two infants seemingly react in tandem to one another, breaths matching, bodies squirming.

“Let me hold them,” Lucrecia begs, voice hoarse, “let me hold my children. I need to hold my Sephiroth and Cloud.”

Hojo shakes his head, tisking.

“Nonsense, dear Lucrecia.” He says, already pushing the cart with the incubator in the direction of the laboratory. “Science doesn’t wait, you know that. I can’t risk any outside factors influencing them.”

For the rest of the day, Lucrecia’s ragged wails for her children were heard throughout the entirety of the Shinra manor- unstoppable, inconsolable until she tired herself out, consciousness fading to black with a pathetic whimper.

All Hojo could think about was seeing the results of his experiment, prodding and poking the children, testing, measuring. In such little time, he could hardly see what their true natures were, but that barely mattered to him.

After all, the pair of slit pupils flicking about were proof enough, and Hojo hadn’t been able to contain his gleeful laughter when the infants’ eyes had opened.

Needless to say, Hojo’s project S had been an _resounding_ success.

* * *

Cloud squirms uncomfortably on the examination table, unconsciously tugging at the iron cuffs restraining him- even if he’s been told not to for his own good. They’re snug around his wrists, just short of cutting off circulation, but knows better than to complain about it.

Even at the tender age of four, he’s realized the professor would never go out of his way to make him or his brother more comfortable during one of their checkups. That he doesn’t answer their questions in any meaningful way- does not like them asking questions in the first place.

“Why’s Seph in a tube?”

Cloud, however, is as stubborn as a mule, and more curious than he has any right to be.

This irritates Hojo to no end.

“Se _phiroth,_ ” the professor hisses, “is in a tube because I’m testing something.”

“Why’s Cloud on the table, then?”

Sephiroth’s really no better than his brother- bright green eyes flitting towards the other’s restrained form as he presses his tiny hands and face against the glass of the tube, trying to get a better look. Little puffs of condensation appear on the glass, clouding Sephiroth’s vision- which are promptly wiped away by the boy before he returns to observing what’s happening outside his see-through prison.

Professor Hojo ignores both of them as they continue asking inane questions while he prepares what he needs for this experiment- idly, he wonders if they are doing it just to spite him. Children they may be, but he knows for a _fact_ that they are smarter, _better_ than any ordinary child. There’s no reason for them to be asking all these _whys_ , he’s made it clear enough that they aren’t getting the answers they’re looking for. Their persistence is annoying, even downright distracting at times- and again he wonders if they realize they are being distracting, if they are doing it on purpose.

He supposes he’s brought this onto himself, he _has_ been rather lenient with them- hasn’t truly made an attempt to push them to their limit.

Oh well. They’ll learn soon enough that making _noise_ won’t do them any good. He’ll squash their little rebellious streak before it even has the chance to properly develop- once he’s done that, _then_ they’ll be the perfect subjects he’s been striving for.

“Hey, perfesser, are you-“

“Now now, you two,” Hojo interrupts Sephiroth as he tries to ask another question, “I know you two are curious, but I _have_ told you before I would prefer silence unless I ask you a question, yes?”

Green and blue eyes meet briefly before they look at Hojo again.

The twins nod.

“Good, good, so you do absorb information after all. Excellent.” Hojo coolly regards them both, raising an eyebrow. “Still, you haven’t kept quiet like I asked you to.”

Cloud opens his mouth to speak- but it snaps closed with a small whimper as Hojo presses a needle into his left arm, attaching an IV drip to the entry point. He’s not gentle, not even pretending to be, and the child subconsciously tries to pull his arm away, only blocked by the cuff holding him down.

“Don’t squirm like that. It’ll only take longer.” Hojo scolds him.

Cloud stiffens, trying to focus on his brother, who stares at the pair of them with furrowed brows, slit eyes narrow.

“Why’re you pricking Cloud, perfesser?”

Hojo tisks, stepping back towards his desk while shaking his head.

“I’ve decided I’ve had quite enough of you two not listening. I’ve been lenient enough, but now you’re old enough to withstand some of my more… interesting tests.” He picks up a glowing green syringe- artificially manipulated mako swirls inside of it, prepared specifically for this experiment. “If you’re old enough to talk _back_ , you’re old enough to make it through this.”

“Um, perfesser-“

“Quiet!” Hojo growls, momentarily losing his patience, before he forces himself to calm down. “I want you two to know that you’ve brought this onto yourself. Hopefully you’ll think of this moment whenever you decide to go against my _orders_ in the future.”

And with that, he empties the syringe into the bag attached to Cloud’s drip.

The green liquid is quick to travel down through the transparent tube- within moments, it reaches the needle, before being released into Cloud’s vein.

Cloud tenses. Then squirms. He starts sweating.

“Perfesser- it- it burns, _perfesser_ -“

Cloud doesn’t get to finish his sentence before scream rips its way through his throat. The squirming turns to thrashing as more and more mako drips into his system, ear-piercing screeches of pain echoing through the lab.

“Cloud!” Sephiroth calls out to his brother, green eyes wide in fear, before they lock onto the professor. “Make it stop, he’s hurt!”

Hojo ignores Sephiroth’s pleas as he turns towards a machine attached to the tube the child is trapped in- wicked grin on his face as he inputs a combination of keypresses. The machine asks for a confirmation, and Sephiroth’s voice fades with a startled yelp as holes open in the tube’s ceiling with a hiss.

Hojo presses confirm.

The same neon green substance splatters from the holes, raining down before draining away in the floor of the tube, cycling back to the top before being released from the holes once more.

Sephiroth gets absolutely _drenched_ with mako- unable to escape as the liquid falls onto him.

His own screams soon join his brother’s, throwing himself against the glass, desperately clawing at it in a futile attempt to get away. His body convulses, the mako burns his skin, slowly being absorbed through it.

As the twins scream and plea and cry, Hojo pulls up a chair to watch the process of both, a computer spitting out statistics while the mako is forced into their systems, noting which method gives what results, what bodily reactions, which is the most efficient.

Hojo grins.

This truly is a necessary step in his experiments- no doubt will the results be _extremely_ interesting.

If it serves as a lesson to the both of them for not listening?

Hojo won’t complain.

* * *

Cloud and Sephiroth are quick to learn that asking questions only leads to more painful experiments.

They stop asking them.

* * *

It’s rare that Hojo only takes one of them from their room. Usually, he loves seeing what reactions they have to one another’s tests, to see the differences in in how they handle substances, constantly trying to figure out which of them is the superior specimen, and therefore worth investing more time into. So far, however, it seems that their results have been pretty similar, differences negligible.

So when the professor comes to take them for their checkup and requests that Sephiroth stay put- it scares him.

It scares him a lot.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself- can’t help but remember Cloud’s confused, terrified eyes as Hojo led him outside when he tries to pass the time by sleeping, so he quickly gives up on that. He tries reading one of the books doctor Gast gave him and Cloud before he abandoned them, hidden under one of their mattresses because they knew Hojo wouldn’t approve- but looking at the familiar words and pictures on the worn, well-loved pages only serve to remind him that Cloud is not _here_ , that Hojo’s doing something to him and Sephiroth doesn’t know what, can’t be there to help him. He _hates_ being useless like this, hates that Cloud is all alone with that man and that Sephiroth’s up here, safe and sound while Cloud is- is-

With a frustrated cry, Sephiroth throws the book at the wall.

It falls to the ground with an unsatisfying thump.

Sephiroth stares at it for a moment before rushing over to make sure he hasn’t damaged it- it’s one of their only possessions, he’d hate to disappoint Cloud by ruining it.

He lets out a little relieved sigh when he checks it and, luckily, there isn’t anything wrong with it aside from a few creased pages. He takes a moment trying to smooth them out, before placing the book back into its hiding spot and crawling onto his bed, knees pressed up to his face.

Oh, _Cloud._

He wishes that, even if Hojo didn’t need him that day, he would’ve taken him with, at least. At least then he’d know if Cloud was okay, he could’ve silently reassured his brother, met his eyes when Hojo hurt him- when, not _if_ \- could’ve made sure Cloud knew he wasn’t alone.

Could’ve reassured himself that he wasn’t alone.

Who knows if Cloud is even coming back? The thought flits into his mind without his consent, and it makes his heart race with panic, but what if it’s true? He doesn’t know what Hojo really wants with them, but what if he’d decided two of them is too much? What if he’d decided to only keep one of them? What if he’d decided Cloud was a waste of time?

What if he’d decided _Sephiroth_ was waste of time?

Hojo had already made other things in the lab disappear. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do the same to him or his brother? Who’s to say that isn’t what he’s doing right now to Cloud? Who’s to day that isn’t what he’ll do to Sephiroth later?

What if- what if- what if-

His breaths are coming in rapid succession to one another, trying to take in more air, more, but it still feels like he’s drowning. His mind is racing, every single negative possibility flashing before his eyes, making his skin crawl- it almost feels like he’s being doused in The Green Shower again, like hundreds of tiny little insects are skittering right below the surface, trying to break out, trying to _break him_. Every new thought is worse than the last, and he can’t even begin to sort through which is real and which isn’t anymore. He’s distantly aware that he’s pulling at his own hair, clawing at the skin until he feels something wet trickle down his face- and he can’t be crying because Hojo said crying is only for weaklings and he can’t be weak when he needs to be there for Cloud, when he’s supposed to be better than others and how can he be better if he’s crying and if he’s not better he can’t protect himself and he can’t protect _Cloud-_

His mind is a spiral of madness, of panic and pain and anger and fear. He doesn’t know how much time spends in this state. Doesn’t know what’s happening around him. He doesn’t know how to make it stop.

By the time his mind finally clears, when he can finally _think_ again, he’s too exhausted to even move. He feels jittery and restless, but a bone-deep tiredness has settled into his body that makes him unable to do much more than twitch and blink as tears roll down his cheeks. He wants to close his eyes. Wants to sleep.

He refuses to do so.

Not until Cloud’s back.

His body shudders with every gasp of air he inhales, not-quite sobs rattling through his lungs as he stares at the door fruitlessly. He wants Cloud back. Needs Cloud back. Needs for his brother to be okay. If he’s okay then everything else will be okay.

After what seems like _forever_ , it’s like a miracle when the lock on the metal door of their room finally _clicks._ Sephiroth’s breath catches when it creaks open, revealing the white of Hojo’s labcoat, and for a moment, all his fears are coming true, Cloud is gone and he’s alone alone _alone_ -

“Seph!”

A head full of golden hair darts out from behind the white, rushing over towards him, and the moment it properly registers, all is right with the world again.

“Cloud,” he says, voice cracking, forcing himself to sit up- _reach out_ towards his brother, “Cloud, you’re back…”

Cloud stops just short of throwing himself into Sephiroth- careful, wary because Hojo is still standing in the doorway. He shoots a glance at the professor, then a concerned one at Sephiroth, before hopping onto his own bed- and Sephiroth drops his hands in understanding- falling back onto the mattress with a sigh.

They’ve long since learned that showing that they care too much in front of Hojo only gives the professor more ammunition to hurt them. No need to make it _worse._

Still, he’d be a fool to not notice Sephiroth’s condition, and Sephiroth wants to smack himself for losing it the way he did. Stupid! He doesn’t have the energy to inspect himself, but he’s pretty sure he looks like he had a fight with one of Hojo’s other experiments.

He sure feels that way, too.

Luckily, it seems the professor doesn’t exactly care today. Sephiroth barely picks up on the quiet ‘interesting’ that leaves Hojo’s mouth as he closes the door, lock clicking into place once more.

All at once, the tension that the professor presence brought with him melts, and Sephiroth lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He startles a little when his mattress dips, before calming when a familiar hand touches his shoulder.

“Seph, you look _awful.”_ Cloud croaks, and oh- it’s only now that Sephiroth realizes how _exhausted_ Cloud looks. Those bright, colorful blue eyes that normally shimmer with something Sephiroth can only describe as _determination_ are dull and red-rimmed, like he’s been crying too-

Oh.

“You’re not much better yourself.” He retorts with a low voice, and he tiredly lifts his hand, allowing it to fall on Cloud’s own shoulder. “Did he hurt you?”

Cloud bites his lip, slit pupils refusing to meet Sephiroth’s, before he throws all caution out of the window, practically diving into an embrace, burying his face into Sephiroth’s collarbone.

That’s all he needs for an answer.

With what little strength he has left, he lifts his arms around Cloud, curling up against his brother. If he weren’t so tired, he’d probably be more mad at Hojo for doing _this_ , whatever _this_ was. As it stands, he can only muster enough emotion to be bitter that Hojo separated them- that he hurt Cloud when Sephiroth wasn’t there to soothe him.

That he hurt _Sephiroth_ by taking Cloud from him.

“I won’t let him, next time,” Sephiroth mutters, prompting a small ‘hmm?’ from Cloud, “I won’t let him separate us again.”

“Me neither,” Cloud answers, “I don’t wanna leave you again.”

They both fall silent after that, and Sephiroth feels exhaustion catching up to him- which is dumb, he hasn’t even _done_ anything today- nonetheless, he feels like he could sleep for an entire week. His eyes are falling closed without his permission, brain slowing down- but its fine. He has Cloud again. Cloud is here again, safe in his arms and not going anywhere.

Secure in the knowledge that his brother will stay with him, Sephiroth falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Surprisingly, Hojo doesn’t protest when they insist on going together the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after.

It’s a nice change of pace, considering the professor’s usual unwillingness to indulge them.

However small this ‘favor’ is, they cling to it like a lifeline.

* * *

Cloud is eight when they put swords into his and Sephiroth’s hands, before dropping them into a room they’ve never been to. It sort of looks like one of Hojo’s containers for his more _violent_ experiments- but far bigger. The professor barely gives them a glance before he leaves, the door closing behind them, trapping them inside.

The only instruction given; “Defend yourself.”

Those aren’t very comforting words, and neither of them is really sure what is going on, swords sort of heavy and clumsy in their hands. He doesn’t need to speak to Sephiroth, however, to understand that they need to watch each other’s back, and even in this new and unusual situation, they instinctively fall into a defensive position next to one another.

Their breaths are the only sounds in the otherwise deadly silent room, and as the seconds tick by, it only serves to send more nerves down Cloud’s spine- but he keeps himself calm. He knows better than to panic.

Not to mention, he has his brother with him. That knowledge alone is enough to keep him from wandering around nervously, looking for an exit.

They both startle as a voice crackles over what Cloud can only assume to be an intercom, the high tone preceding it making him wince- that’s _loud._

“Initiate combat test- Level 5.”

A robotic female voice rings out through the room, indicating that this is, as expected, another kind of test- not any kind they’ve had to do before, but then, Hojo’s never been willing to give them a heads-up for _new_ experiments.

A buzzer of sorts blares loud enough that it makes Cloud’s ears ring a little- but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before his attention is stolen by the other side of the room, where part of the wall splits open with a mechanic _hiss_. Cloud’s heart is pounding in his chest, arms trembling a little as he holds his sword in front of himself, hoping that he’s keeping it into whatever proper position the professor wants- he’s _sure_ the man is watching them from somewhere, and judging.

He feels more than he hears Sephiroth stiffen beside him as the low _tap-tap-tap_ of something moving echoes from the hole that has opened in the room- echoes that slowly but steadily grow louder as it- whatever _it_ is- approaches. Anticipation races up his spine as a pair of glowing eyes appear from the darkness, followed by a sleek, canine body coming into the light of the room, claws clicking on the metal floor.

_Guard Hound_ , his brain supplies as the door closes once more with a hiss, prompting the hound to growl in their direction, ears flat against its head, like they’re the ones that locked it in here. Cloud’s mouth feels dry- are they supposed to take this thing down?

It looks even more ferocious than the photos in the books Hojo had been shoving under their noses lately could properly convey.

He risks a glance at his brother- whose eyes meet his for a moment, slit green meeting slit blue- and while to the outside world, Sephiroth must look quite cool and neutral, Cloud knows better.

Sephiroth is just as nervous as Cloud.

If not more.

It’s comforting to have his brother at his side- quells his own nervousness, he hopes his own presence does the same for Sephiroth- but he doesn’t have time to think about it, not even a second to sputter out a single word of comfort.

The hound _leaps._

For a moment, it’s like time slows down, Cloud’s heart leaping into his throat. Huge, razor-sharp teeth close in, the hound’s gaping maw open wide as it descends upon them. Claws almost as big as his entire _head_ flex with the powerful muscles attached to them, ready to tear both of them apart in one fell swoop, and were it not for an instinct-fueled dive to the side-

Well. Best not to think about it too hard.

The hound lands in the spot he and Sephiroth were standing mere moments ago, snarling as it quickly decides on its new target now that they’ve been split apart. The tentacle on top of its head snaps towards Cloud like a whip, knocking the sword out of his trembling hands, barely suppressing a pained cry as the weapon nicks his leg, leaving a bloody gash in its wake.

The smell of blood seems to spur the hound on, thick strings of drool running down its lips as it leaps towards Cloud once more-

He doesn’t have time to scramble towards his discarded sword; the best he can do is brace himself as the creature’s maw snaps closed around his raised arm- and this time, it _does_ draw forth a cry of pain, feeling muscles tear and bones snap through the cheer _strength_ of the hound’s jaw. He’s going to die here, he can’t protect himself, he’s gonna die, he’s gonna-

“ _Cloud!_ ”

Sephiroth’s voice rings through the room, desperation and fury lacing his tone, and it’s less than a moment before the hound lets Cloud’s arm go with a howl of agony, turning towards Sephiroth with a snarl. It takes a moment for Cloud to think through the pain, realizing the sword Sephiroth had been holding earlier is sticking out of the side of the creature- and that now his brother is staring it down, wide-eyed, teeth grit. Though the hound has been weakened by the wound, it’s clear it’s nowhere _near_ death yet- it’s still a bloodthirsty, genetically enhanced powerhouse, ready to tear both of them apart.

And Sephiroth just made it more angry.

He’s also lost his weapon.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize that’s a death sentence.

Sephiroth gasps when the hound surges towards him, bracing himself in a manner not dissimilar to what Cloud had done only moments before- Sephiroth lets out a strangled cry as the hound slams into him with its full weight, teeth snapping closed around his shoulder before the hound starts shaking him, ripping pieces of flesh from Sephiroth’s body while he’s flung around like a ragdoll-

Cloud sees _red_.

Or, more accurately, he sees _blue_ , but in his anger it might as well be red. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, his right arm is entirely useless, a crippled, fleshy appendage hanging loosely from his shoulder but he can’t let this _thing_ kill Sephiroth, not after all they’ve endured, not after they promised to stay together, not after Sephiroth practically s _acrificed_ himself to this _beast_ -

He doesn’t remember picking up his sword. He doesn’t remember running at the hound. He doesn’t remember jumping in the air, left hand clinging to his weapon as he brought it down with as much force as he could muster, doesn’t remember screaming-

_Braver._

By the time his mind has stopped reeling, the hound is dead- practically cleaved in two- and he’s clinging to a trembling, shallowly breathing Sephiroth while people are running into the room, yelling things he can’t be bothered to listen to while he’s in so much pain himself- while his brother’s eyes usual bright green are dull and he’s _broken and bruised and bleeding so much, so much-_

He feels weak- can’t bear it when they separate him and Sephiroth despite his protests- he struggles and squirms and yells, but he’s already wounded and confused and whatever he just did took all of his strength, his head feeling heavier and heavier the more seconds pass. Grey is closing in at the edges of his vision as he’s dragged off to god knows where, lab coats whirling around him as his consciousness leaves him.

The last thing he sees before passing out is Hojo’s self-satisfied smirk.

* * *

It takes a good while to get them both patched up after that- accelerated healing or not. Hojo doesn’t seem to care about that either way, continuing his tests as normal. There’s a glint in his eyes that neither of them can ignore lately- and they wonder what it means.

Perhaps more positively, however, is that apparently someone recognized their talent for fighting.

They receive a trainer to teach them how to apply their talents.

They’re told they will soon be the _perfect_ killing machines.

* * *

“Seph?”

“Hm?”

“Do you ever wonder about what’s out there?”

Sephiroth pauses for a moment, opening his eyes to look at Cloud- who’s laying next to him (it’s been so long since they’ve slept in different beds- he can’t imagine not having Cloud next to him).

“I do.” He says, meeting Cloud’s eyes, before he looks away again, rolling onto his back, focusing on the stark grey ceiling of their room. “I don’t know if they’ll ever let us out, though.”

“I’m wondering about that.” Cloud hums. “Why’re they teaching us to fight if they don’t wanna let us out?”

“Is there any rhyme or reason to Hojo’s tests?”

“No. I guess not.” Cloud sighs. Sephiroth feels him shift. “But I just… I wish they’d let us see, just _once_.”

“Me too.”

Silence falls between them.

Sephiroth closes his eyes again, trying to imagine it. Outside. There’s not much for him to go on- all he and Cloud have ever known is the cold, grey steel of the labs, the white of lab coats, the red of their own blood, and the green of mako- but he’s heard one of Hojo’s old assistants say that Cloud’s eyes are the color of the sky, deep and endlessly blue (though they didn’t see the guy again after that). The old books from doctor Gast give him an idea of what it _might_ be like, but they’re very childish, very… unrealistic, as far as he’s aware- still, he wonders if there is some truth to the painted pictures of trees and castles and the sky. The pictures depicted a very different green in the trees than the green of the mako he sees almost daily, but perhaps real trees are closer to the color of mako than the pictures let on?

He wonders if Cloud’s eyes are really like the sky. He opens his own once more, glancing at his brother, who is draped against him.

“Hey, Cloud?”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me for a moment?”

“Huh?” Cloud sits up, tilting his head in question. “Sure, I guess. Why?”

“Just wanna see something. Come on, look at me.”

“Impatient.” Cloud snorts, but obligingly looks at Sephiroth.

Their eyes meet, and Sephiroth looks, _really_ looks into Cloud’s eyes. He has the same slit pupils that Sephiroth knows are mirrored in his own eyes. _Catlike_ , he’s heard someone describe it once- but surrounding those pupils is, indeed, a deep blue, surrounded by flecks of green from the mako they’ve been receiving since they were young, giving them a nice glow. Now that he’s looking closely, he actually notices Cloud’s eyes become lighter towards the center of the iris- he’s not sure what to compare it to, but it’s rather nice to look at.

If the sky looks like his brother’s eyes, then he’d _very much_ like to see it for real, one day.

“Your eyes are pretty.”

He surprises himself by saying it, but it’s true, so he supposes he doesn’t regret it.

Cloud blinks.

“Oh?”

Sephiroth nods. Cloud’s eyes _are_ pretty. Unique.

He’d kind of like to look into them all day.

“Your eyes are pretty too, Seph.” Cloud suddenly says, catching Sephiroth by surprise. He didn’t expect Cloud to say anything- except maybe when he’d had enough.

“Yeah?”

Cloud flops half on top of him with a huff, breaking the eye-contact briefly before they find one another again.

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hearing Cloud say that makes him feel… happy, he thinks? Happy to know Cloud likes part of him? He’s not quite sure what to make of it, but it’s a nice feeling nonetheless. It’s certainly nothing he’s felt before- that’s for sure.

Maybe it’s because Cloud is his brother, and he cares about what his brother thinks? But then, there was a time where he cared about what Hojo thought of him- can’t deny that he still kind of craves that approval from the man- and it doesn’t feel like this.

Strange. He wonders why that is.

He only realizes how close they’ve gotten when Cloud’s forehead touches his.

He blinks. He feels… odd.

He can feel his heart beat in his chest, fast and loud, but it’s nothing like when he’s afraid- so he doesn’t think that it’s that. There’s a weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach that he can’t quite place, and part of him feels like it should concern him, but it doesn’t. He enjoys the warmth of Cloud’s upper body laying on top of his- makes him feel safe in a way he isn’t used to, isn’t really sure he’s ever felt.

He doesn’t want Cloud to move. He feels content, despite the alien feeling in his body.

“Let’s sleep like this.” He says, curling his arms around his brother, holding him closer.

“Hm? Aren’t you uncomfortable?” Cloud asks. His pupils narrow with an emotion Sephiroth can’t understand.

Sephiroth wonders if his own pupils are doing that, too.

“I’m not.” He replies, and it’s strange- he really should be uncomfortable with a body on top of his torso, even if it’s the body of someone he cares about, but he’s really not. “Are you?” He asks Cloud in return, wondering if he’s the only one feeling as nice as he does, pressed together like this.

Cloud takes a moment to reply, eyelids narrowing, like he’s trying to make sense of what he’s feeling himself.

“No.”

And with that, his eyes close, and their foreheads separate, and there’s a bit of shuffling as Cloud makes himself more comfortable, slotting his face into Sephiroth’s neck, chin on his shoulder, cheek to cheek.

“Let’s sleep like this.” Cloud repeats, confirms, voice gentle, soft. Happy? “This is nice.”

“It is.” Sephiroth agrees, and allows his own eyes to close, too.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be nice. Perhaps it should be uncomfortable. Perhaps they’ll both wake up in the morning and decide that this wasn’t as good as it seems right now, and agree to never do it again.

But that’s another time. Another place.

Sephiroth lets his breathing even out.

* * *

They don’t speak about it again, but the next day, when they’re released back into their room for the night, they crawl into a similar position.

And the night after that.

And the night after _that_ one.

And all subsequent nights to come.

* * *

The first time they’re let outside the labs, it’s almost mind-boggling.

They’re led into one of the elevators- one they’ve never been allowed inside before- each of them flanking Hojo, wearing nicer clothes than any they’ve ever owned before- clearly uniforms, but they’re a huge improvement over the grey garbs they’ve always worn. They’ve been fully groomed- their hair and bodies having been cleaned from the perpetual gunk that just seemed to kind of cling to them- neither of them have ever felt, or really, _been_ this clean before.

Cloud’s hair refused to be brushed into a proper model- but other than that, they both look the very picture of perfect- down to the way they stand, the way they walk, the way they move.

The way they’ve been taught, of course.

Putting it to the test, however, in these hallways lined with plants (they’ve only seen pictures), people (so many people!), and banners of all kinds, is more than a little nerve-wracking.

Not that either of them let it show. They’ve been trained better than that.

Cloud stares ahead of himself, careful not to let his gaze wander and fall out of sync with Sephiroth’s steps as they follow Hojo through the building, his face schooled into a careful neutral. Some people stop and stare at them- their whispers catching his ears.

_“Are those-?”_

_“Looks like Hojo’s got a new project.”_

_“Do we allow human experimentation now?”_

_“What’s with their eyes?”_

_“They don’t look human, though.”_

They probably don’t think they can be heard- and by most people, they probably can’t- but Cloud and Sephiroth aren’t exactly ‘most people’. They’ve been bred, trained, and modified for fighting, for killing, enhanced in ways that make them keenly aware of every single thing going on around them, senses sharper than even most beasts.

Perhaps, even subconsciously, these people realize that- giving them a wide berth as they talk about them in hushed tones.

Cloud doesn’t let their words bother them. What they think is none of his business, anyway.

Slowly, though, the people clear out, becoming scarcer as they, presumably, get closer to their destination. Privately, Cloud is glad- is sure Sephiroth is too, though he can’t turn to look right now, to gauge his brother’s mood.

They come to a stop in front of a large door- one that is a grade nicer than the rest of the plain, steel doors they’ve been passing up until now, signaling that this one is, likely, special.

Hojo slides a keycard into a groove next to the door- and with a small _ping_ , the doors slide open.

“Behave.” Is all Hojo says, before he jerks his head, a sign for them to follow inside.

If Cloud had trouble trying not to look around in awe before, he certainly has to restrain himself even more _now._

The room they enter is probably the gaudiest, most expensive and fancily decorated room he’s ever seen- pretty lights erupting from the ground and ceiling, warm and welcoming, nothing like the cold and harsh lighting he and Sephiroth have always known inside the labs. Exotic plants- plants that, he knows from books, don’t belong in the hemisphere they live on- line the corridor leading up to the largest, most grandiose desk he’s ever seen. Behind said desk, a window so big it almost makes Cloud dizzy, a small part of him wanting to run up to it and stare out at the city surrounding them like a little kid.

Cloud quickly squashes that part of himself, the only indication he’d ever had a thought like that being a rapid blink- something nobody would see as suspicious.

He feels the presence of a few unseen humans, catches a glimpse of a dark suit- but they’re not hostile.

He leaves it be.

In the middle of the desk sits a middle-aged, well-dressed man, one that Cloud recognizes purely from pictures he and Sephiroth had been shown earlier.

President Shinra, leader of the Shinra Electric Power Company.

Their soon-to-be new boss.

(Not their owner- Hojo made it very clear that they’ll always be _his_ , but from now on, they’ll be serving the president.)

They come to a stop in front of him, and Hojo makes a movement with his hand, indicating they’re allowed to stand in parade rest- and in perfect sync, Cloud and Sephiroth fall into the stance.

The president is staring at them with a calculating glint in his eyes.

“Hojo,” the man speaks, gesturing at Sephiroth and Cloud, “these are the new… soldiers you’ve spoken of?”

“Indeed.” Hojo replies, and though Cloud cannot see his face, he’s certain the professor is wearing a wicked grin right now. “They have been enhanced and trained to perfection, as you well know. One can give them any command, and they will obey without question. Boys?”

He makes another gesture- and Cloud doesn’t even have to think about it before his body moves into a salute.

“Mister President.” Both he and Sephiroth say at the same time- perfectly so, not even a moment of delay between them. Hojo makes another gesture, and the salute drops, making them stand at attention.

President Shinra hums.

“Impressive,” he says, before turning to shoot a questioning look at Hojo, “are they truly as good as you say they are, Hojo? The negotiations with Wutai aren’t going well, and we’re going to need a strong offensive presence soon, and as nice as perfectly obedient troops are, we’ll need something better.” He gestures at Cloud. “I wouldn’t have expected one of them to look so unremarkable.”

Cloud doesn’t react to the obvious bait- but he hears Sephiroth’s teeth clench next to him.

“I can assure you, both of them are, again, nothing short of _perfect.”_ Hojo practically gloats. “Were you not the one that requested they be ready as _soon_ as possible, mister _President_?”

The president huffs.

“Don’t get mouthy with me, Hojo.”

“I am merely stating facts.”

President Shinra stares Hojo down for a moment, before he huffs again.

“Very well. But I want to see them in _action_ before I’ll allow them in my army. Live.” The president nods at them. “I’ve seen the footage of their training, and while impressive, I’d like to see… something more substantial than a mere _video_ , Hojo.”

“But of course.” Hojo cackles, before turning around with a wave of his hand- Cloud and Sephiroth immediately step aside for him, then quickly turn around and flank Hojo once more.

“If you would follow me, Mister President.” Hojo says over his shoulder, not bothering to look if the man is following, but Cloud hears him get up from his desk with a grunt, as well as the footsteps of the previously hidden people who, for their part, flank the president. His guards, then.

They’re led through the building once more, and this time, when they arrive at their destination, Cloud recognizes it as a training room- a fancier one than he and Sephiroth are used to, transparent observation window and all- but still very clearly a training room. This time, they don’t need to wait for a signal, they know what’s expected of them here, and wordlessly, they step into the ‘fighting’ area, both grabbing a VR headset, while the rest of the entourage settles behind the window. The doors close with a small click, indicating Sephiroth and Cloud have been locked into the room until further notice.

Hojo fiddles with the settings of the machinery while they put on the headsets, and then they fall into a fighting stance, reaching out for their weapons that obediently appear in their hands, wisps of black smoke bringing them into existence.

Where Masamune and Tsurugi came from, neither Sephiroth nor Cloud know- they just suddenly were able to summon them at some point in their training, and while they both have learned how to use a diversity of other weapons, none of them will even feel as right as Tsurugi does to Cloud, or Masamune does to Sephiroth.

They wait.

A buzzer sounds- the room around them dissolves into a mountain landscape.

With a mighty roar, a dragon descends from the sky- ferocious and angry, poised to attack them. In less than a moment’s notice, it starts spitting fire, dousing the surrounding area in flames before it swoops down, teeth glowing as it prepares to use its _dragon fang_ ability.

Cloud and Sephiroth spring into action at the same time, avoiding the flamethrower with a grace that is almost unheard of- especially against a foe like this- swords ready, splitting up so the dragon has to focus on two places at once, before they begin their assault. Quickly, the dragon is brought to the ground, forced to defend itself against the perfectly coordinated assault that they rain upon it. When Cloud is on the ground, Sephiroth is in the air- when Sephiroth jumps back to avoid its tail, Cloud jumps in to attack its undefended side- when Cloud distracts it one way, Sephiroth strikes where it can’t see- it’s a deadly dance that they’ve perfected between each other, synchronized, not a step out of place. Cloud can perfectly predict Sephiroth’s next move based on minuscule signals, context cues that nobody but they can see- and the other way around, each of them follow up in the way that is expected of the other to make it the cleanest, most efficient win they can manage.

Overall, between the two of them, it only takes a few minutes to take the dragon down.

The world dissolves into pixels as they fall into their original positions, not a hair on their heads out of place- and take the headsets off. Both Masamune and Tsurugi disappear into the black void they came from now they’re not needed- wherever that may be.

Through the window, Hojo is staring at them with a satisfied smirk. The president, for his part, looks impressed, if a bit shocked as he turns to the professor.

Neither Sephiroth nor Cloud move as the two talk, not hearing what they’re saying through the glass- but they c _an_ read lips. More of Hojo’s gloating. More questions from the president. Requests. Demands.

_Negotiating their terms of usage._

Cloud moves his head a fraction, allowing him to see Sephiroth from more than his peripheral vision- notices his brother did the same- and their eyes subtly meet. Their expressions don’t shift, not even to acknowledge one another- but the brief moment of eye contact is enough.

They both snap back towards the window less than a split second later- nobody but them being any the wiser.

_Whatever they do with us, we’ll be together for it._

And that knowledge alone is enough to keep Cloud from dreading this new chapter in their lives.

* * *

The negotiations with Wutai fail no less than a week later- and at only 14 years old, they’re shipped off to fight a war like the killing machines they were made to be.

The troops quickly learn not to underestimate them.

* * *

Being in Wutai is… strange, to say the least.

Not a bad strange, per se. There’s plenty of things he recognizes- like obeying orders shouted at him through an earpiece, like the blood of the creatures and people unfortunate enough to stand in their way, skewered by Masamune before they even have the chance to scream, like standing at his brother’s side as they advance through the jungle (the _real_ jungle, not a simulation!), watching each other’s back, covering their blind spots.

There are many, _many_ more new things than he could have ever expected, however.

He has never felt so _free._

Not that he took pleasure in that at first- when they arrived, when they were still too used to the strictness and bleak outlook of the labs- but time has passed, _flown_ by at a pace so quick that it’s almost dizzying, when he thinks about it for too long. It’s a war, yes, they were made s _pecifically_ for this kind of thing- it’s not pretty, people on both sides die left and right- but-

_But_.

He’s free to look up, and there it is; the endless sky he and Cloud had dreamed of so much when they were younger- sometimes blue and sometimes black and sometimes red, depending on the time of day. He’s free to speak when he wants to, to Cloud, to the troops with them- though the latter tend to get a bit intimidated, so most of the time it’s just him and Cloud, when it’s not about military matters, a bit reminiscent of the evenings in their room- but still so different. He’s free to walk through their camps, and even a little outside of them, free to withdraw himself when he feels overwhelmed, free to do whatever he wants without a scientist or trainer breathing down his neck.

Maybe that’s saying a bit much- they still have restrictions on what they’re allowed to do, the training in the labs hadn’t been for nothing, after all- but in comparison to what he and Cloud had before, this is more than they could have ever hoped for.

It’s too bad for the people living here, but life isn’t fair. That’s just the way it is.

Caring for others isn’t exactly something they were taught by Hojo.

There’s only one person Sephiroth _truly_ cares about, and that’s his brother.

If killing and destroying and being Shinra’s war machine lets them keep this freedom? He’ll gladly do it without looking back.

It’s good to know Cloud feels the same way, from the conversations they’ve had about it. They both know what disobeying would mean- and they’d much rather have this than be back in the labs.

Being around people other than his brother is a bit exhausting, he has to admit. None of these troopers can keep up with them- and part of the deal appears to be that they have to leave them intact unless they conspire with the enemy. Even the enhanced SOLDIERs that have started appearing alongside them, groups of people that were made stronger thanks to the results of the experiments he and Cloud went through as children, aren’t even close to being on their level- though apparently they’re still works in progress, rather than the mostly completed experiments they are. Third and second classes, where he and Cloud are first classes.

Or so they’ve been told, anyway.

There are two exceptions, quickly climbing the ranks- Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley seem a step above the rest of SOLDIER- Genesis especially seems eager to challenge him and Cloud whenever he finds an opportunity, wanting to become a hero like they apparently have become to the rest of the world. Sephiroth isn’t sure what the man is trying to prove, but his and Angeal’s company are… tolerable.

It’s not like they’re allowing themselves to be pushed away like the rest of the troops- well, again, mostly Genesis, more out of his one-sided rivalry than anything else, but they quickly discovered that where Genesis is, his childhood friend is quick to follow.

The concept of ‘childhood friends’ is a foreign one to Sephiroth, but if it’s anything like being brothers in the way he and Cloud are, he can at least understand their attachment to one another. Genesis and Angeal might not have gone through the trials they had to endure, but he appreciates the way they interact with one another.

It makes him feel a little more normal about the way he feels for Cloud- and Cloud for him.

It’s _normal._ In this regard, they’re _normal._

Despite what they have been told from a young age- it’s good to know that _this_ is something that humanity does.

It means Sephiroth and Cloud are a little more human than whatever Hojo tried to turn them into, and honestly?

That thought in itself is more satisfying than any freedom could possibly give.

(Okay- maybe not. But it still feels good to know Hojo _fucked up_ somewhere.)

The war has been extremely enlightening when it comes to learning what _‘being human’_ means, to both of them. It’s undeniably clear they’re nothing like the rest of the troops, that there’s still something _off_ about them- but how much of that is their lack of any contact with people outside the labs, and how much is just the natural consequence of the experiments conducted on them?

Sometimes, it bothers Sephiroth- but then he thinks about how much he cares about his brother, and his brother about him in return, how utterly _human_ such a thing is- and decides that in the end, it’s not worth agonizing over. So what if people think they’re weird, with their slit eyes and too-pale skin and the strange ability to summon their weapons at will- they’re still _human_ , buried somewhere beneath all the experiments and training and fucked up childhood.

At the very least, they have each _other_.

(And, slowly worming their way into their hearts, Angeal and Genesis. But those two don’t have to know about that.

For now.

… Even though maybe they already do.)

* * *

“There was a situation with some of the troops today.”

Sephiroth opens his eyes, lifting himself up to quizzically look at his brother. It’s night, they’ve had a long day- he wants nothing more than to pull the other against himself and sleep, using each other’s bodies to keep warm. He’s been waiting for Cloud to join him for a while now, but his brother has just been sitting at the edge of the bed, thinking.

Is this why? How strange.

“It bothers you?” he asks.

Cloud hums, lifting his head to look at Sephiroth, meeting his eyes with a grimace, like he’s conflicted with himself. Nonetheless, Sephiroth patiently waits for Cloud to answer him- his brother wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Do you know what ‘kissing’ is, Seph?” Cloud says, and there’s doubt in his eyes now, as well as another emotion that Sephiroth recognizes but doesn’t have a name for.

“The word seems familiar.” Sephiroth tilts his head. “I can’t say I know what it refers to, however.”

“I wasn’t familiar with it either.” Cloud huffs. “A fight broke out.”

Sephiroth nods. He’d heard as much, though he wasn’t around to see what caused it.

“And?”

“It was the cause, I believe.” Cloud pauses for a moment, before continuing. “From what I understand, one of the troopers was caught kissing another by their… partner.” Cloud narrows his eyes, looking away. “I was told that it’s something that’s supposed to be rather intimate. Something you only do with people like.”

Sephiroth raises his eyebrow.

“So what was the problem?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. I don’t know enough about it to make a statement about it, but, you know Seph, I’ve been thinking all day,” Cloud looks up again, mako-bright eyes shining in the darkness of their private tent, “it’s supposed to be a way to show you care about someone, or so I’ve gathered. So.” Cloud shrugs. “I care about you. I like showing I care about you.”

“You want to give me a kiss.” Sephiroth hums. “I still don’t know what it is, though.”

“I only saw flashes of it myself, honestly, and Genesis-“ Cloud interrupts himself, shaking his head with a sigh. “You just kind of press your lips together, I think. I can try to show you what I’ve learned?”

Sephiroth blinks slowly at him, mulling the information over in his head. Kissing. Another foreign concept that they’ve heard about while out here- another thing Hojo didn’t teach them, though if it’s anything like Cloud describes, he wouldn’t want the professor to have taught them anyway. If it’s truly something that shows you _care_ , then the man would have only sullied it by telling them. Since he didn’t, though, it’s just another _human_ thing that he doesn’t want them to do, probably.

Aside from that- he wants to show Cloud he cares about him in every way he possibly can. Wants to know how.

That thought settles Sephiroth’s decision.

“Okay.”

Cloud smiles lightly at him, that little smile that Sephiroth knows is reserved only for him and oh, does it ever make him feel weird in the best way possible. The nice feeling he has never been able to give a name to, but always crops up whenever Cloud looks at him in a certain way, or whenever he thinks he’s been able to cheer his brother up, or do something he likes- or, alternatively, when Cloud does something for _him_ , purely because he wants to make Sephiroth happy.

He feels his heartbeat pick up a little when Cloud crawls closer to him, cradling his face between his hands- and he can see the nervousness in those slit eyes. Others might not see it, but Sephiroth has spent every day of his life with the person before him, and can read his emotions clear as day.

There’s something thrilling about it as he has to adjust his focus when Cloud pulls him in, gently coaxing him to sit up properly as their heads draw together. He feels his brother’s breath mixing together with his own, soft puffs of moist air as he scrunches his eyebrows in concentration. In all honesty, it feels a bit similar to when they put their foreheads together while cuddling, except Cloud’s not tilting his head right for it, instead angling it a bit when their noses bump together awkwardly-

Oh.

There’s pressure on his lips.

Sephiroth blinks.

It’s a strange sensation, something other than food or his own skin against his lips- but he doesn’t think it’s bad. He feels Cloud’s lips twitch against his own, bright eyes meeting bright eyes, and he internally admits that this, indeed, does feel rather intimate- but it’s Cloud, so it’s fine. He’s unsure what they’re supposed to do now, though, aside from just press their lips together and stare at each other- which is getting a bit weird the longer they do it. Not really embarrassing, but definitely weird.

He thinks he’s getting a little lightheaded.

After a few seconds, Cloud pulls away again, taking a deep breath- and Sephiroth realizes he’d been holding his own. That would explain the lightheadedness, then. He takes a few breaths himself to remedy it, giving them both the chance to process for a moment.

“So,” Cloud says, after a few breaths, “I think that was a kiss.” He frowns a little. “I don’t know if I did it right, though. What did you think, Seph?”

“Hm,” Sephiroth hums, “it was a bit strange, I have to admit.” He touches his lips with his fingers, wondering why it feels as if Cloud’s still lingering there. “All in all, it was rather nice, though.” He lets his hand fall away, letting his lips twitch into a small smile. “You?”

“Yeah,” Cloud agrees with a small nod- and Sephiroth is glad to see his frown turn into a smile of his own, “I think I liked that, too.”

“Good.” Sephiroth pulls Cloud against himself, bringing him with him as he goes to lay down in the bed that, really, is too small for both of them, but it’s nothing they’re not used to by now, and Cloud easily adjust himself to be draping over Sephiroth, making them both as comfortable as possible. Almost by habit, their foreheads gently touch together, eyes falling closed as they bask in one another’s presence.

A silence falls between them for a moment or two, until Sephiroth speaks up.

“I’m going to kiss you, this time.” He says lowly, not opening his eyes to look. He wants to feel it at its fullest, this time, not distracted by looking into Cloud’s eyes- though he does wait for a moment for Cloud to hum in confirmation.

Their heads tilt a little to accommodate, and their lips come together again.

The weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach picks up with a vengeance, but doing this with Cloud just feels really nice. He likes this closeness. Likes the way their lips press together perfectly, even in their inexperience. It’s warm, and a bit wet from the spittle from their mouths, which should be gross, really, but somehow, it’s not. He feels Cloud breathe in through his nose- feels his own breath bounce off of his brother, feels every little shift, feels his brother’s heartbeat in his chest.

His own heartbeat is picking up.

He feels happy.

Experimentally, Sephiroth moves his lips a little, and almost instinctively, Cloud does the same- and oh, that’s even nicer than just pushing their lips together. It’s almost ridiculous, the way they’re slightly opening and closing their mouths, but it feels good. Natural. There’s some drool escaping from his mouth, but it’s fine, it feels nice, makes it more slippery as they slide together. A small noise escapes him, and he’s not sure where it came from, but Cloud follows up with a similar one, so it must be okay.

Their mouths part, and Cloud lays his head into Sephiroth’s neck with a hum.

“Kissing is nice.” He says, his body warm against Sephiroth’s skin. “I think I want to keep doing it with you, Seph.”

“Me too.” Sephiroth murmurs in agreement, his breath rustling Cloud’s hair. He feels safe, with Cloud this nearby. Feels a bit mellow, from the intimacy of the kisses.

He looks forward to the next time they kiss.

* * *

They continue their trek through Wutai, conquering forts, raiding villages. It’s all too easy, whenever they hit the battlefield. Very few Wutai troops can keep up with Sephiroth and Cloud- though more and more, carelessly slaughtering them starts leaving a bad taste in their mouth, watching as they slowly but surely destroy the culture of a proud folk.

That doesn’t mean they stop. They have orders, after all.

Huddling together at night, sharing body heat, pressing their lips together- they try to ignore the atrocities they’re committing against other human beings. It doesn’t matter, anyway.

Not when their freedom is dangling only by the thread of the orders they obey.

What an awful time to grow a conscience.

They shove it to the very recesses of their minds- and obey.

* * *

It couldn’t last.

Of course it couldn’t last.

Of course working for Shinra, carrying out their every order, obeying their every whim, destroying and ravaging foreign lands on their word wouldn’t afford them freedom.

Of course it was naïve of them to think they had any kind of freedom to begin with, weapons as they are. They never left the cage of their childhood. It simply got a lot bigger than they were used to- extended on a leash that could pull them in any time it wanted.

And pull them in it _did._

With Wutai weakened beyond recovery, their numbers dwindled to a _fraction_ of what previously was a large, prosperous nation, only barely clinging to their independence by a thread, it was deemed that having Cloud and Sephiroth permanently out in the field was a waste of time and resources, both theirs and Shinra’s. Why make the best SOLDIERs of the entire company trudge through swamps and forests and hostile villages when regular troops and lower class SOLDIERs could do it just as easily? Why waste money on them executing such a menial task, when it would be cheaper to just keep them in the Shinra headquarters, only sending them out as needed- especially now that Genesis and Angeal have joined the rank of SOLDIER first?

It’s only logical to keep their best close by, where the most important members of the company reside- and need protection.

A perfect excuse. Hojo always was good at getting what he wanted.

And what he wanted was his prize subjects back.

Cloud refuses to tremble as Hojo straps him down with metal cuffs, designed specifically to hold himself and his brother- who is trapped in a similar way only a few meters from Cloud, bare body spread out on a metal examination table so the professor can prod and poke wherever he wants, however he wants. They’re both strong, so strong, but completely powerless to the whims of the man who has raised them- the man who _owns_ them. A _hand gesture_ , the right choice of _words_ , and they have no choice but to obey Hojo, the behavior stamped into them beyond the choice of doing or not doing- conditioned like the attack dogs they are.

A soft exhale from Sephiroth reaches Cloud’s ears at the sound of the professor messing with his lab equipment- they can’t meet each other’s eyes, can’t really look at one another, but the barely-there hiss of breath as Hojo leans over Sephiroth with a needle tells Cloud all he needs to know about the discomfort of his brother, before letting out one of his own as the professor turns to him, repeating the process of drawing blood- and storing it away for later examination.

There are some more clinking noises as the professor presumably gets more materials that he needs for his checkup on them, before he finally speaks up.

“Well, _boys,_ it has been a while.” Hojo hums, glancing at their naked bodies and scribbling something down on a notepad. “Before we begin, I am obliged to ask- have you experienced any abnormalities in your absence?” He pauses for a moment, tapping his notepad. “Bodily abnormalities, mental abnormalities… perhaps _unruly_ urges?”

Sephiroth doesn’t speak up, and neither does Cloud. When they were younger, they might have divulged such information- now, they know better than to air their dirty laundry to Hojo.

Their bodies and minds may still be trained to obey the man when commanded, conditioned in ways they cannot fight- but there’s no way they’re willingly going to say _shit_ to him.

That much, at least they have control over- if only because the man never wanted them to talk, earlier in life.

Small victories.

“Nothing to say? Very well.” At their lack of answer, Hojo puts the notepad away, shaking his head. “In that case we’ll just move on. I do so hate having my time wasted.”

Hojo pulls a medical cart towards Sephiroth, taking the time to put on a mask and gloves before he takes something from the table- from the corner of his eye, Cloud recognizes it as a scalpel.

He suppresses a shudder, and even though Hojo isn’t standing over _him_ , anxiety spikes through his body on his brother’s behalf. He knows the professor. Knows what he’s like. Knows what he likes to _do_.

Cloud strains to look at Sephiroth, tries to meet his eye- but he can’t, not with the way the tables are set up, facing away from each other at an angle.

All he can see is the shadow of Hojo moving- hears a rather sharp breath leaving Sephiroth’s nose.

The squelch of something sharp meeting flesh- and _cutting._

Slicing.

Taking _apart_.

He forces himself to listen- _needs_ to hear what the professor is doing to Sephiroth. Forces himself to listen to Sephiroth’s increasingly frantic breaths, hears them turn into hisses, then into groans.

Then into screams.

Cloud keeps his face passive, just in case Hojo looks over, but internally he’s frantic, wishing he could do something to stop the professor, who seems all too delighted in the combination of Sephiroth’s sounds of agony and the s _quish squish squish_ of muscles and organs being pushed around, inspected, cut up and put back together like they’re nothing more than malleable _clay._ Wishes he knew why Hojo was doing this, what they had done wrong to deserve a punishment like this.

All they did was obey orders.

Orders which took them away from Hojo.

He wishes they were back in Wutai. Wishes they were sitting with Genesis and Angeal, listening to the two talk while occasionally interjecting with their own thoughts. Wishes he and Sephiroth were alone in their tent again, laying together and kissing and forgetting things like this could even happen.

How cruel such illusions were. How cruel to experience it, and then have it taken away.

The smell of blood is thick in the air, overpowering even the scent of sterile laboratory. Sephiroth’s screams are turning hoarser and hoarser by the minute. Hojo is muttering to himself, and Cloud can see the telltale movements of the professor’s sewing technique from the corner of his eye.

Cloud suppresses another shudder as Sephiroth lets out one final scream- and then his brother is mostly quiet again, heavy breathing aside.

Hojo steps away from Sephiroth, and Cloud almost wants to cry with joy that his brother’s torture is over now. Wants to comfort him, wants to hold him close and mutter healing spells and soothe the horrific wounds Hojo has no doubt inflicted on him.

Subconsciously, he pulls at his restraints- and he’s quickly snapped back into reality when they don’t give, the professor’s looming figure appearing over his vulnerable, open body.

No time for such things.

Not when it’s _his_ turn.

“Sephiroth’s biology looked impeccable, as expected.” Hojo comments as he puts on a new mask and gloves, a clean scalpel in his hand. Neither of them hide the _splatters_ of fresh blood on his lab coat. “I hope for _you_ that the same can be said for yours.”

There’s no warning as the scalpel plunges into his stomach, cutting.

Slicing

Taking _apart_.

Cloud closes his eyes and thinks of his brother, laying so close yet so far, recovering from the very same treatment Hojo is giving him now. Listening to Cloud’s uncomfortable breaths, which slowly turn to hisses with every new cut, every snip of scissors, every prick of a needle.

He tries to hold his screams back for as long as he can- doesn’t want to give Hojo the satisfaction, doesn’t want to worry his brother.

Hojo pulls at s _omething_ inside him.

He can’t help screaming anyway.

* * *

When they’re done, they’re thrown back into their old room- with the dinky beds, old blood clinging to the covers that rarely ever got washed out, and the fresh blood from their broken and battered bodies is quick to cause new stains, joining the old. Everything hurts, every little movement is agony- laying _still_ is agony. They try to keep their breathing even. Try to avoid agitating the wounds more than they need to, but they can’t quite keep the tremble out of their bodies as they lay next to one another on the too-small bed, clinging together, needing to feel that the other is still _alive._

An old ritual by now.

Time passes. Assistants come in here and there to feed them. Their wounds heal.

It’s almost shocking when Hojo tells them to get out of his lab. They have apartments now- a gift from the president. For their loyal service. An employee will show them where.

If anybody notices the hurried way they leave the labs, a slight limp in their steps, they don’t comment on it.

Nor when the apartment closest to the elevator goes unused in favor of the brothers rooming together.

Dual glares are enough to deter anyone from asking.

It’s none of their business, anyway.

* * *

Living in the Shinra building- and _not_ inside the laboratories this time- is… strange.

Stranger than being in Wutai, even. In Wutai, they were expected to apply their skills in battle, to obey, to take, take, _take_ in the name of Shinra, to kill and ravage and murder like the weapons they are. Wutai called them demons- and for good reason.

That was familiar, even among the newness of being allowed more freedom- or perceived freedom, anyway. They know better than to call it that, now- know that living in the Shinra building is much the same in that sense.

Still.

As much of a gilded cage as their new living arrangement is, it’s easy to see that- perhaps for the first time in their lives- they’re being treated _well._ The apartment is theirs, and nobody barges in without prior notice- they have actual _privacy_ now. A proper bath and soaps and other products for their personal hygiene, with no restrictions on how often they’re allowed to use it. Good meals three times a day- _actual_ meals, and not the tasteless slop of vitamin mix that they were fed in the lab, or the crusty energy bars in the camps in Wutai that made their mouths dry and uncomfortable.

The first time Cloud tried chocobo meat, he nearly cried at how much flavor there was in his mouth, and immediately urged Sephiroth to try some too- quickly followed by them both scarfing down as much as they could before anyone could take it away. Even in the privacy of their own apartment, there was a lingering fear that Hojo would appear out of nowhere and decide that _‘meals with frivolous flavors’_ were not something they required.

Of course, that didn’t happen. It took a while for them to realize they could just eat what they wanted- almost embarrassingly so.

There’s still an almost giddy glee hanging between them every time they order _normal_ food in the employee cafeteria, food that, apparently, most of the population ate on the regular from childhood on.

It’s almost a surprise when Genesis- freshly returned from Wutai along with Angeal- watches them eat it and reacts with horror.

“You can stomach something that- that- _horrible?!_ ” He says, almost overly dramatic. “Not a chance I’m going to let you exist on _that!_ Angeal, help me out here- _”_

From then on, it becomes a bit of a tradition for Angeal and Genesis to show up in their apartment when their free days line up- and spend the evening creating a meal together. They teach Cloud and Sephiroth how to cook to the best of their abilities, and soon they are making meals on their own, not needing to go to the cafeteria anymore to get food.

The homemade meals are even better than the cafeteria food, most of the time, but for convenience’s sake, they still order from the cafeteria often enough. Just because they’re in the Shinra building, doesn’t mean they’re not busy.

Oh, are they _ever_ busy.

Lazard Deusericus- who, apparently, is the director of SOLDIER- always has something for them to do. As there are only four SOLDIER firsts, the two of them being exactly half of those, there is more often than not a mission for them to take. Sometimes, they’re sent back to Wutai for a few days, but nothing like the years they spent there earlier. Sometimes, they’re paired up with Genesis or Angeal for a mission- but only very rarely.

Most of the time, it’s monster hunting missions. They’re easy enough for the two of them, no monster living near Midgar is anywhere _close_ to a challenge for them, at this point. It feels more like a way to give them something to do- to keep them from thinking or wanting too much for themselves.

Angeal calls it a PR stunt.

Considering the awed citizens who often come out after the danger is gone to gawk at them, then cheer, some bold ones even asking for an autograph, they’re inclined to agree.

The heroes of Wutai, they call them. The heroes of Wutai have come to save them.

It feels strange to be worshiped like that. Neither of them really feels like a hero- the concept is such a foreign one that it’s hard to wrap their heads around it. Are they heroes? Is what they have the mark of being a hero?

Well- the public clearly thinks so, with their starry-eyed looks and praising words.

It’s not hard to imagine why they think so, however.

Neither Sephiroth nor Cloud are oblivious to Shinra’s propaganda. There are posters with their faces all over the city, calling for young men far and wide to join them in their battle against Wutai, for the glory of the great Shinra corporation, to stand side by side with the great war heroes themselves.

The posters get replaced often. Between their missions, they’re often tasked with modelling for them, made to strike inspiring poses as cameras flash in their faces.

Sometimes they’re put into uncomfortably tight and fancy clothing and ordered to attend a high-end party- a way for Shinra to show off how well-behaved their _best_ attack dogs are. It’s an exercise in patience to _not_ lash out at all the people cooing at them, asking them to dance, share a drink, and so on and on- but it definitely could be worse.

Years of living under Hojo’s thumb has made them professionals at shrugging off any and all discomforts. Something as relatively _minor_ as being paraded around like accessories is easy compared to what they’re used to- it’s just different.

So, no, they don’t have a lot of free time between all _that_ \- but when they’re not going on missions, when they’re not sent into Wutai, when they’re not going to Hojo’s bi-monthly checkup, and when they’re not being treated like glorified zoo-animals- the free time they have is nothing short of _precious_. Whether it’s spent between just themselves in their apartment, exploring different sorts of kisses, learning the intricacies of _normal_ human interaction, figuring out what they enjoy doing outside of combat, cooking (hanging out? Is that what they call it?) with Angeal and Genesis, all of it is something new, something exciting that they’re slowly, _slowly_ getting used to. It’s almost surreal, to think they have all _this_ now, after being told all their life they were nothing more than subjects, weapons, inhuman creatures to be used.

Despite all its shortcomings, despite the gilded cage?

Life is pretty good.

* * *

“Seph, hand me the soap?”

“Here you go, Cloud.”

Cloud takes the soap held out for him, wordlessly nodding his thanks as his brother goes back to rinsing the shampoo out of his hair under the warm spray of the shower, a cascade of silver clinging to his body. Compared to Cloud’s own rat’s nest, Sephiroth’s hair is almost ethereal, long and beautiful and soft- Cloud understands why it’s one of the few things Sephiroth so vehemently defended in the labs, even when Hojo grumbled that it was too long. He tried growing his own out like it, once- but he ended up looking absolutely ridiculous compared to his brother, so he didn’t complain when it was cut again, happy to keep the unruly ‘chocobo-butt’, as Genesis calls it sometimes. It’s funny- people tend to question how they can even be related, looking so different, but honestly, it’s like they’ve never heard of fraternal twins.

If they bothered to look at their eyes, mutated eyes only they have, they would know better- but most people tend to avoid looking at them for too long. From fear or respect, Cloud can’t always tell.

He hums a little as he soaps himself up, washing away all the grime and dirt of the previous day, and lets out a small sigh as the water hits his skin. There are few things that come on par with his love for his brother, but this shower is definitely one of those things- the gentle spray of hot water so often lulls them both into a pliant and relaxed state, something so foreign in their lives that, in the past, it may as well have been a thing of fantasy. Being able to _clean_ themselves whenever they feel like it is lovely, a luxury that Cloud knows they’re both extremely grateful for.

Compared to the science department, which rarely even deems it necessary to clean up their experiments, it’s a blessing of the highest category.

There’s a nagging fear that, at some point, it’ll be taken away from them, that Hojo will decide that their bi-monthly checkups aren’t enough anymore. That he and his brother will have to go back to living as _things_ \- creatures less than human. Hojo’s little freaks that he fills with mako and other experimental substances, just to see how a human body reacts to it, cutting them open over and over and over to see if anything has changed, to see if-

“Something wrong?”

Sephiroth’s voice catches his attention, snapping him out of his thoughts- and oh, he realizes he’s frowning, just kind of standing there instead of washing himself like he’s supposed to.

How stupid, getting lost in such thoughts.

“No,” he shakes his head, and continues to scrub himself, “just remembering how things used to be.”

“Hm.”

Sephiroth doesn’t speak beyond that, doesn’t offer any words of comfort- but suddenly there’s warm skin against his back, a pair of arms wrapping around him, and the tickle of breath against his cheek, his brother settling his chin on Cloud’s shoulder as he envelops him in a hug. It makes it a bit hard to clean himself properly- but he appreciates the gesture, sighing contently as he leans back a little into the body behind him, reaching up to pat Sephiroth’s cheek.

“Thank you. I’m fine, Seph.”

“I know. We’re stronger than that.” Sephiroth says, twisting his head to press a short kiss on the palm of Cloud’s hand. “I wanted to, still.”

Cloud huffs out a short laugh.

“Let go of me. We need to finish washing up.”

“I can’t help it that you’re slow, Cloud.” Sephiroth chuckles in his ear, but obediently lets go, and grabs his favorite conditioner before lathering a generous amount in his hair, leaving Cloud to finish his own routine- which he quickly falls back into, after the brief break of his thoughts wandering and his brother hugging him.

Soap up- wash hair- rinse all. A little less quick and efficient than that maybe, with some time being spent just enjoying the warm water, but soon enough he turns the shower off and takes his towel to dry himself. Sephiroth is already wrapping his hair up in a long towel to drip out, shooting a short glance at Cloud before he walks out of the bathroom- to their bedroom, most likely, where he’ll finish up with his hair in front of the vanity mirror- a small indulgence they bought a few months back.

Cloud wastes no time toweling himself off after that- while he’s rather meticulous in his hair-care, Sephiroth is quick about it, too, and Cloud enjoys warming their bed before his brother crawls in with him.

Another way to show that he cares. It’s small things like these that they enjoy doing for one another- little comforts that stem from… before.

They’re old habits, but they’re _good_ old habits, in Cloud’s opinion.

The bed is soft and cool against his naked skin as he lifts the covers to get under them, shuffling a little until he’s mostly comfortable- as much as he can be without his brother laying next to him, of course, but that’s not really a problem. Sephiroth will join him as soon as he’s done- as he does every evening, every night Cloud is in bed before him, same as Cloud does whenever Sephiroth gets into bed before him. These days it’s rare, however, since their schedules rarely differ from one another, and Cloud’s self-care routine simply is shorter than Sephiroth’s.

Cloud sighs happily as he watches Sephiroth brush his hair out, gently but firmly, allowing not a single knot to remain even as he blow-dries his hair. The movements are graceful and practiced, one hand on the dryer and the other with the special brush he uses specifically for this, getting rid of the remaining moisture in his hair. When Sephiroth’s finished with that, deeming his hair water-and-knot-free enough to his satisfaction, he pulls it all together before splitting it in three separate bundles, braiding it with a quick efficiency that only comes with experience.

Cloud sighs again. Watching Sephiroth take care of his hair is always so mesmerizing.

When Sephiroth is finally done, he briefly returns to the bathroom, hanging the wet towel on the designated rack to dry before making his way towards the bed, crawling in alongside Cloud. There are no words, no time wasted as they draw each other closer, bare skin touching bare skin- a natural source of heat and comfort.

Cloud lays his head on Sephiroth’s chest, and feels his body relax automatically at the contact with his brother.

Like this, all feels right in the world.

Only his brother can make him feel like this- the strange fluttery spark in his chest that he long since has identified only comes out when he has positive contact with Sephiroth. Only his brother can make him feel this happy. Oh, certainly Genesis and Angeal make him happy sometimes too- they’re good friends- but only his brother has the ability to make him feel this safe, this cared for.

He wants to kiss Sephiroth.

“Seph,” he says, lifting his head to meet his brother’s eyes, “I want to kiss you.”

Sephiroth’s answering hum pleasantly vibrates in his chest.

“Me too.”

He doesn’t need to say anymore- just like that, they’re tilting their heads towards each other, lips slotting together in a by now practiced ease. Warm, comfortable, his stomach does a little flip when Sephiroth shifts closer to him, cradling his head as he seeks full body contact, sinking into the familiar embrace of being this close, this intimate. Only Sephiroth is allowed this- Cloud can’t imagine doing this with anybody else, can’t imagine anybody else understanding how to make it feel good, feel right.

Their lips slide together, subtly opening and closing them to get closer- they’d noticed early on that movement makes the experience a lot more pleasant- and Cloud allows his tongue to sneak through the gap, a quick lick that he knows makes Sephiroth sigh in content. Such a thing was awkward at first, but now, he’s not disappointed- Sephiroth’s little pleased noises are such a delight, and he’s feeling a bit cheeky, so if his tongue flicks out more than usual, well, that’s alright, really. Occasionally, he feels Sephiroth’s tongue brush against his own, wet and hot, drawing forth noises from his throat that he can’t quite stop.

Not that he feels the need to. It’s a bit of an unspoken mutual agreement- allowing the other to hear your sounds, letting them know how you’re feeling, if it’s still okay.

Right now, Cloud’s feeling more than a little okay- and the feeling is clearly mutual.

His stomach flutters with a strange heat when Sephiroth shifts against him. He lets out a sharp breath through his nose. Something twitches against his thigh.

It’s not a bad feeling. Sephiroth’s low moan feels nice, rumbling against his chest.

He pulls his brother closer.

Their lips part for a moment- just enough for Sephiroth to murmur his name, and oh, the way he _says it_ , low and happy and relaxed, it’s doing _things_ to him, making the heat in his lower belly flare up- and Cloud can’t help himself as he pulls Sephiroth back in for more, spittle dribbling messily between them. It doesn’t bother Cloud nearly as much as it should, it should be gross, but it just makes it easier to slide their lips and tongues together, kissing deeper and harder, but still oh-so nice.

His legs tangle with Sephiroth’s- and it’s only then that he notices something is poking his hip- but that’s okay because an _incredibly_ nice feeling shoots through him, makes his insides curl with- with- _something_ as he subconsciously rolls his hips forward, and it draws such a strange sound from himself and Sephiroth, who mimics the movement-

It’s his penis, he realizes, that draws forth the good feeling. Feels it rub against Sephiroth’s stomach while Sephiroth’s own drags over his thighs- and it’s so _strange_ , strange that it can make him feel so nice, that it stokes the warm, coiling feeling in his abdomen. It’s done this before, a few times, but then it hadn’t felt like this and gone down after a little while- though he can hardly think about that as he and Sephiroth move together in union, lower bodies undulating and jerking as they chase the feeling, louder and louder sounds- _moans_ ripping from their throats between the kisses they share, needing to separate every so often for air. He doesn’t understand why he feels so winded, the longer this goes on, panting against Sephiroth’s mouth before diving back in, but it just feels so amazing, he’s never felt something like this before- something inside him building, rising, demanding more and more and more until he can’t think of anything other than the body next to him, his lovely and beautiful brother who looks to be much in the same state, and it should be alarming but it’s _not_ and it feels so incredibly good and-

Sephiroth’s breath stutters.

Something warm and wet splatters against his thigh- and Sephiroth lets out a high, pleased sound that he’s not sure he’s ever heard from him before.

He can’t even take a moment to think about it- because suddenly his own breath stocks, the feeling inside him reaching its peak. Pleasure unlike he’s ever known courses through him, robbing him of his every conscious thought, because all he can feel is _good_ and _yes_ and the blissful release of something- almost like he’s peeing but so so so much better, stars dancing in front of his eyes-

And then it’s gone, replaced by a bone-deep tiredness and satisfaction as he slumps against his brother, both their chests rising and falling as they try to catch their breaths, like they just had an intense training session- but it’s also nothing like that because he isn’t sore, just content and relaxed and a bit confused about what just happened but that’s okay because he feels good.

He makes a small noise and cuddles closer to Sephiroth- who is more than happy to accommodate Cloud.

There’s a sticky wetness between his thighs and on his belly that’s getting a bit uncomfortable, though. He does his best to ignore it, to sink further into the haze of loose relaxation that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before, but now it’s starting to feel gross, especially since he’s supposed to be clean from the shower earlier.

Sephiroth makes an unhappy noise when he pulls away, but otherwise doesn’t make a move to pull Cloud back towards him.

Cloud frowns when he sits up to observe the substance that, apparently, came from their penises. It’s not pee- doesn’t even look close to it. It’s kind of white-translucent, a bit slimy to the touch, with an alkaline smell that’s becoming more obvious now that he’s coming back to his normal thinking.

How weird.

“We need to shower again.” Sephiroth says, watching Cloud observe the substance. “That… what we just did, whatever that was, we soiled ourselves in the process.”

“Hm.” Cloud nods in agreement, eyes flicking towards Sephiroth. “What do you think that was? I’m trying to figure it out, but I’ve never felt something that intense before.”

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth admits, hoisting himself upright. “I thought it was… nice, however. Felt good.”

“Yes, it was. I believe Genesis would say it was ‘heavenly’.” Cloud huffs out a small laugh at the thought of his friend. “I can’t think of another way to describe it.”

Sephiroth snorts- an unguarded sound that he only feels comfortable making around Cloud- before pressing a small kiss on his cheek.

“Come on.” He says, placing his feet on the floor to get out of bed. “Let’s wash this off quickly. We could both do with some sleep.”

“Agreed.”

* * *

Later that night, while mulling it over, mind flicking over memories and theories on what they did, Cloud suddenly snaps upright, eyes widening as he realizes.

Images Hojo fed to them about animals reproducing come to mind- a similar sticky-white substance described in the books they were made to read jogging his memory.

“Seph. Seph, I think we mated.”

Sephiroth looks at him, green, glowing eyes meeting his own blue ones in the dark.

“Like animals reproducing?”

“Yes.”

Sephiroth hums, pondering for a moment, before he shrugs.

“We can’t reproduce. It felt nice. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Cloud blinks. Then, he shakes his head with a chuckle, and lays down again, cuddling up to his brother.

“You’re right.”

* * *

Life mostly continues as normal as the years go by. They still kiss in the privacy of their own room, they still walk in an almost eerie sync in the hallways, and now they occasionally _mate_ , when the urge arises. They start sparring regularly with Angeal and Genesis- just for the _fun_ of it, and while the childhood friends are definitely weaker than them, they’re the only ones who actually give Sephiroth and Cloud somewhat of a challenge. It gets a bit silly sometimes, even- trying to cleave an apple in two on one of their head by throwing their swords. If the higherups knew, they’d probably have a stroke, but it’s just so _funny_ and _unlike_ any sort of training they’ve been subjected to before, it’s more than worth the small risk of sneaking out after hours.

Do the Turks know what they’re doing? Very likely. But as long as they don’t make too big a ruckus, they’re content to ignore the SOLDIER firsts’ little games.

When they’re on the clock, however? Well…

It’s not really their fault that the VR rooms are too flimsy to withstand the training sessions between them. They get better over time, of course, but Masamune is long, and Tsurugi splits into multiple parts that Cloud isn’t opposed to throwing if needs be, so repairs are a rather frequent affair. Sure, they get reprimanded for it- but as it seems, the president is happy enough to let his faces of the company ‘show their power’, so to say.

That works well enough for them since it means fewer visits to Hojo, who has taken to installing scanning equipment into the training rooms. It allows the man to keep track of his favorite pet projects, as well as sift through the rest of the SOLDIERs for… _potential._

Privately, Cloud and Sephiroth are glad that nobody has caught the man’s eye yet, to their knowledge. They know better than most what the professor is capable of- and his attention is an unholy privilege they wouldn’t wish on anyone.

One of the thirds, however, catches _Angeal’s_ eye at some point.

Zack ‘the Puppy’ Fair is as restless as his nickname implies, and more than one of their evenings spent cooking with Angeal and Genesis are spent with the former talking about Zack with equal grades of fond exasperation and a genuine belief that the young man can truly become a great SOLDIER with the right guidance. Cloud and Sephiroth aren’t interested in taking mentees, not a single one of them would be able to keep up with them- not to mention their rather clipped social awareness and all-but hero status that scares away most, but Angeal, they have to admit, has always been the most likely to take a newbie under his wing. Genesis is too haughty, too self-absorbed to even consider it despite his charisma, but Angeal is just that right mix of strong and approachable.

And apparently, whatever Zack Fair has is exactly what Angeal is looking for in young SOLDIERs.

Neither Cloud nor Sephiroth sees Zack very often, busy as they are, but sometimes they catch a glimpse of a mop of spiky black hair following Angeal around like, well, a puppy eager to please. They have to wonder what the appeal of that is, but who are they to judge when they still don’t always understand the appropriate way to, in Genesis’ words, ‘ _human’_?

The pride in Angeal’s face when Zack gets promoted to SOLDIER second, however, gives them an idea about how much the man has grown to care for Zack. _That,_ at least, they understand, even if the ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ are still a bit of a mystery.

Oh well. If it makes Angeal happy, and it doesn’t impede his own training sessions with them, it’s fine.

Lately, they’re being sent more and more to Wutai again, however, cutting down on their training time. It makes sense- Wutai is growing weaker and weaker, and Shinra is getting impatient. They want their bests to make quick work of an already dying nation- and Sephiroth, Cloud, Angeal and Genesis are great at what they do. Forts fall left and right whenever they’re deployed- it’s easy pickings at this point.

Then Genesis falls ill.

A shoulder wound that won’t heal even though it’s completely superficial, obtained during training. Mako energy that seeped into it caused a _reaction_ , according to dr. Hollander- he needs a blood transfusion, but neither Sephiroth nor Cloud’s blood is viable.

It’s Angeal’s blood that ends up saving Genesis- and everything seems normal after that, even if Genesis fights in a way that clearly shows favor to his right side. The uninjured side. He keeps insisting he’s fine, despite the concerns Sephiroth and Cloud have- more aggressively than before, even, so they let it drop.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have.

Genesis, along with roughly one-third of the entire SOLDIER force, goes rogue after they’re deployed on a mission in Wutai. No trace of the first nor any of his troops is left, even after Turk investigation.

Worryingly, Hollander goes missing not soon after- and the conspiracy theories start going around almost the moment it’s discovered.

Sephiroth and Cloud want to hope there’s a good reason for it. Want Genesis to turn around and call ‘surprise!’ and say it was a joke, a dumb, idiotic joke but a joke nonetheless- want it not to be as it seems, but well.

They know better than to hope for a good outcome. There’s no way this is anything but a full-on defection- and it happened right under their noses too.

Even they can see that Angeal, despite trying to continue as normal, is heartbroken, and they don’t know what to do about it. Any comforts ring hollow, and the truth is harsh.

The best they can do is ignore the problem until it’s officially made their business, and in the meantime they try to give Angeal space- which he uses to train his Puppy further. From what little they have seen of Zack in battle lately, he’s sure to make first class soon.

It almost feels like a joke when he finally does, with no Angeal there to celebrate his own Puppy rising through the ranks. A hollow replacement after the man in question disappears as well.

Especially since their first formal encounter is Cloud having to jump in to protect the kid from an attack from an Ifrit summon while Sephiroth cuts the thing down with deadly accuracy. Rookie mistake, turning your back on an enemy without making sure it’s down for good- but at least the Puppy had done a considerable number on the summon, as well as taken out the entirety of Fort Tamblin by himself earlier.

His insistence that Angeal couldn’t possibly have defected too is as naïve as it is heartbreaking. He has so much faith in his mentor, so much faith in people in _general,_ it’s a wonder he hasn’t lost it all while working for Shinra- though perhaps that’s why Angeal chose him in the first place.

It would be adorable if it weren’t so damn sad. Cloud and Sephiroth privately agree to try and preserve that kindness- it’s just a little positivity in the absolute shitshow that their lives have been, lately. Genesis copies, Angeal copies, and project G linger in their minds as they go on missions with the Puppy, trying to subtly help their old friends.

But they’re selfish. Too selfish. They don’t know kindness enough themselves to help preserve it.

They knew the Modeoheim mission would likely involve the elimination of Genesis and Angeal. It would have been easy for them- neither of the childhood friends had ever pulled a victory on them, even working together against one of them. They could have slain Angeal and Genesis and completed the mission in half the time any other SOLDIER would.

There was the small hope that if they shouldered the mission on Zack instead, the Puppy could convince Genesis and Angeal to give up on this suicidal defection. To come back to Shinra.

Even small that hope was too much. Zack confirms both of their deaths with a trembling voice as he reports to them and Lazard, before practically dashing off to who knows where.

When Sephiroth and Cloud become more distant to people than ever before, spending more time in the privacy of their room, huddling together while they silently grieve the loss of the only friends outside of each other they ever made- nobody notices.

It’s only for the best. Nobody wants to see the great heroes of Wutai show any emotion other than confidence, anyway.

The title hurts more now than it ever has. What kind of heroes can’t save their own friends?

The people of Wutai were right to call them demons.

More time passes. Zack gets used to his position as first- tries to become their friend, despite it all. It’s a nice effort, but how can they trust him to stay when everyone they show any inkling of care for keeps. Going. Away.

They’re better off relying only on each other. Even Shinra’s so-called luxury treatment rings hollow when they realize it’s just a way to entice them to stay.

Lazard disappears. More Genesis copies keep appearing, despite their old friend’s supposed death- the idea that he’s alive plays in their heads, even if the company tries to deny it.

Deserting in the same way as Angeal and Genesis sounds more and more appealing when they talk about it in hushed tones when they’re alone in their room. It’s a hard decision, Shinra and everything surrounding it has been all they’ve known for so long- but it’s so goddamn tiring to play the perfect SOLDIER, the obedient attack dogs who heel for their masters until they’re pointed at their next target.

Their choice is settled somewhere mid-December, 0002. Whether Genesis is alive or not, the upcoming mission, they decide, is going to be their last one. Nibelheim is a small mountain town with an old reactor in its mountains. With no Turk surveillance, it’s all but the perfect opportunity to quietly disappear into the night.

They just need to investigate the reactor.

Then, they’ll run.

* * *

“Th-this is…”

Sephiroth’s breath catches, hands trembling as he holds the journal he and Cloud found in the basement of the mansion. It’s an old journal- dated back to around the time they were born, which is what drew them to it in the first place- but its contents, never could they have guessed-

Cloud looks as distraught as he feels, lips pressed together thinly as he sits next to Sephiroth, holding the pages down as they read the journal.

_JENOVA project S._

Jenova. Their mother. Not even human- but a fossil of a dead race, discovered and named by professor Gast.

A _Cetra._

Sephiroth swallows heavily as they read the journal together, a hurricane of emotions swirling through his head- he doesn’t even _know_ what he’s supposed to think about this.

“Genesis was right. We’re… we’re even _less_ human than we thought.”

The earlier encounter, as well as Cloud’s words weigh heavy as he turns another page, carefully reading every sentence, every word, trying to make sense of the information before them. They’re… what are they? Man-made recreations of a dead race?

Gast’s journal details every little test, every little DNA sample, every little _thing_ that led up to their creations. Chemical concoctions made specifically to let them grow, creating and implanting them with Jenova’s DNA through various means.

The test tubes at the end of the hallway catch their eyes.

Twin tubes. Old, dried up residue still visible.

Sephiroth tightens his grip on his brother’s free arm. Cloud lets out a choked gasp.

The journal ends with a description of their ‘birth’, and the plans Gast once had for their development- which, apparently, were abandoned in favor of turning them into the weapons they are today.

They were supposed to find… the promised land?

It only raises more questions.

Sephiroth slams the journal shut with a shuddering breath. What now? What are they supposed to do now? What does this information mean to them? What does it mean _for_ them?

_‘Find more journals.’_

They turn their heads, slit pupils meeting slit pupils- only a hair’s breadth between their faces. Sephiroth can see the thoughts raging behind Cloud’s eyes- gears turning, emotions rising. His heart is beating in his throat as they press their foreheads together.

_‘Learn the truth.’_

No words are spoken, just the brief touching of lips- an affirmation that they’re in this together- before they break apart, practically shooting towards the opposite ends of the underground library, searching more information- _needing_ more information. About themselves, about the Cetra, about Jenova, project S, the experiments that created them-

Zack comes to check in on them. They send him away because he doesn’t- he doesn’t _know_. He’s human through and through, he doesn’t understand-

_‘Doesn’t **deserve** to understand.’_

Six days and six nights pass by.

Jenova.

Project S.

Cetra.

Calamity.

Life.

Death.

Humanity.

_Purpose._

_‘Let Mother give you **purpose** , my dear sons.’_

_‘Embrace Mother.’_

_‘Live your purpose.’_

_‘Destroy the **traitors**.’_

On the dawn of the seventh day, everything suddenly becomes crystal clear- like their minds snap into position, a muddy fog that has always been there lifting to reveal the truth- and everything more.

Sephiroth doesn’t even need to speak to Brother to know he feels the same way.

They… they are the _heirs_ of the planet. The only Cetra- man-made or not- alive.

The only ones who can bring peace to Mother, after humanity stole her life from her in their cowardice, letting her and the other Cetra die. Reproducing, coupling, repopulating after the Calamity wiped out the original people of the planet.

_Traitors._

Goddamn _traitors._

Fury hotter than Ifrit’s hellfire burns inside him- inside _them-_ he can _feel_ Brother’s emotions echoing back and forth, their hatred and anger mingling together again and again until there’s nothing else left. How dare those traitors do this to Mother- to _them_ , how dare they live their lives, oblivious to what they’ve wrought?!

No more.

He and Brother will do right by Mother.

Humanity will _pay._

They start by burning down the town in which they reside- small settlement that it is- but small or not, it is the home of _traitors,_ and the madness inside them _sings_ in pleasure with every traitor they cut down. It’s a euphoria greater than anything they’ve ever felt happy or good about- this is _right_ , this is what they _deserve._ The sweet cries of the panicking townsfolk are music to their ears, their blood and guts painting the ground around them the prettiest red, surrounded by the hot flames of _justice_.

_Mother_.

Satisfied with their work, they turn their backs on the flaming town. _Mother_ is calling them.

They need to help Mother, poor Mother, who is stuck inside the humans’ vile reactor. They can feel her presence, her cries of fear and sadness as they rush their way up the mountainside, the reactor coming closer and closer.

“Stop! Murderers!”

Oh, one of the traitors has followed them, it seems. The leader of this town- the mayor. Small fry. Thinking he can s _top_ their divine justice.

The bloody gurgles as Cloud slams Tsurugi through his chest are so very satisfying- but no time to revel in it.

Mother is near.

Another shout. Another traitor, it seems- a young girl, this time. Weaponless, does she really think she can take them on?

A shove is enough to send her tumbling down the stairs- there’s a delightful _crack_ when she hits the bottom. How weak. How _disgusting_.

The metal door blocking their access to Mother opens for them so easily- like Mother had been expecting them.

“Mother… we’re here now.” They say together, synchronized as one, voices overlapping.

He feels closer to Brother than ever, and Brother feels closer to him than ever. It’s wonderful- like it was always meant to be-

They just need _Mother_ now.

Together, they ascend towards the statue that hides Mother, standing on the pipelines, the machinery that holds Mother captive.

“Mother, let’s take back the planet together.” Sephiroth says.

“We… we had an epiphany.” Brother echoes.

The statue is beautiful- but it is-

In.

Their.

_Way_.

“Let’s go to the promised land…” They speak at the same time, once more. “ _Mother_.”

“Sephiroth! Cloud!”

Zack Fair’s voice echoes through the chamber, disturbing their peace with Mother. The traitor starts slinging words at them, questions- questioning _their_ divine justice?

How funny.

“Mother,” Brother speaks after a small chuckle, “they’re here again.”

“You should have ruled this planet. You were stronger. Smarter.” Sephiroth continues. “But then they came…”

“Those inferior dullards.” Brother hisses- rightfully angry as he glances at the traitor. “They came and took this planet from you.”

Sephiroth places his hand on Brother’s shoulder, turning his attention back to Mother.

“But don’t be sad, Mother.” Sephiroth says, reaching out towards the statue together with Brother, their following words spoken together once more.

“We are with you now.”

They pull-

The machinery of the statue momentarily groans in protest-

And then- then-

“We meet at last.” Joy, pure joy as they lay their eyes on her- on the beautiful creature imprisoned by the traitors.

“ _Mother_.”

The joy only lasts for a moment- before that _traitor_ has to ruin the moment with his voice- asking them if they’ve lost their minds, pointing his sword at them- at _Mother_.

How dare he.

How _dare_ he.

There’s no thinking, no waiting- how _dare_ that traitor interrupt their meeting with Mother, beautiful Mother-

Synchronized as ever, they engage the traitor as one.

_‘Make him **pay.** ’_

The battle is longer than they expect. _Traitor_ is stronger than they expect. But he is no match to them- not when they’re fighting for each other, when they’re fighting for _Mother._ Every blow of the _traitor_ is met with an onslaught of anger, fury fury _fury_ \- as they push him back, threatening to teeter into the depths of the reactor below. The green shine of mako highlights the traitor’s own fury, the fear as he realizes he’s fighting a losing battle, trying to put distance between himself and the death that has been chosen for him, jumping away, back towards the hallway of Mother’s shrine-

No escape, no escape for the _traitor_.

He and Brother jump after the traitor, Brother blocking his escape from their rage, swinging Tsurugi, forcing the traitor to block-

The opening Brother has given him is delightfully obvious.

Traitor _screams_ as Masamune pierces him.

Pinned to the wall like the insect he is.

The look on the traitor’s face is absolutely _delicious,_ coughing up blood, slowly weakening struggles as he and Brother look at the life leaving him, rivulets of red dripping from his body-

The _perfect_ look for a traitor like him.

“Brother.” Sephiroth says- and that’s all he needs to say because Brother already understands-

_‘Go get Mother.’_

Brother leaves his side, and Sephiroth stays to watch traitor die- to make sure he doesn’t get up again. _Traitor_ has proven himself resilient in the past- Mother is important, but making sure this traitor is dead is too. That’s why there’s two of them- that’s why _Mother_ made two of them- to keep each other safe, to keep Mother safe, to make sure everything goes _perfectly_ -

Perhaps that’s why the kick to his side is such a surprise that he can’t defend himself against.

“This is for _Nibelheim_!” A feminine voice screams.

The impact is powerful- powerful enough to send him careening over the edge of the platform, into the sparking machinery below- it _hurts-_ it burns and crackles and seizes his muscles, unable to move as he gracelessly falls towards the depths below, only catching a glimpse of long, brown hair, furious, tear-stained umber eyes-

The girl who they’d knocked down earlier. Their guide.

_Tifa._

They hadn’t made sure she was down for good- writing her off as a nonthreat-

_Rookie mistake._

His consciousness is flagging as he falls, the horrified shout of _‘Brother!’_ only barely reaches his ears. Awful, awful disappointment floods his system as well as fear and anger and-

The familiar touch of Brother startles him, eyes snapping open, green meeting blue, slit pupils wide- Brother had jumped after him.

Brother pulls him close, pressing their lips together- he feels a part of Mother between them-

Failures.

Failures failures _failures_.

How could one human have caught them this off guard? How could she? How could she ruin their perfect _happiness?_

Hatred flares between them, an echoing loop in their minds- fury, hatred, _fury_ \- fury for the Puppy, who had taken their attention, hatred for the girl, who had taken their _justice_ from them-

The mako burns when they hit it, eats away at them like a hungry predator, dissolving them, burning burning _burning_ -

But it doesn’t burn as bright as the righteous fury and hatred in their minds. Doesn’t stop the rage that consumes their very being-

Even as

Everything

Goes

Dark.

* * *

Meteor burns bright in the distance.

The barrage of the attacks the humans- and one Firelion- lay on them hurt- but not enough to stop them, not nearly enough to stop them. Not in this form.

Not when they’re a _God._

Twelve magnificent wings whip up hurricane-like winds as they move, their body stronger than any of these dullards could ever imagine. Their struggles are so amusing, trying to damage them with their puny weapons and materia.

The ninja uses a summon for the third time already- does she really think it will cut them down any more than it did last time? Foolish girl.

The Knights of the Round are no match for their combined body, their combined strengths _._ Who do they think they are, hoping to sever their bonds, hoping to bring them to their knees?

There is no Sephiroth anymore. There is no Cloud anymore. Only a wonderful feeling, a wonderful mix of what once was them. Where one ends, where the other begins, there is no telling. A never-ending embrace of pure joy, pure _love._

They can live like this forever. They _will_ live like this forever.

All they need to do is swat away these annoying flies attempting to take them down.

How funny it is, to watch them struggle uselessly. To watch them use potions and elixirs, phoenix downs to try and stay alive. Idiot humans, do they not know their fate is sealed? Do they not realize there is no beating _them_ anymore?

Sephiroth-Cloud-Sephiroth- raises their arm, calling forth _Supernova_ , creating the illusion of the universe dying in front of their opponents, pulling gravity down down _down_ , making them struggle, making them gasp for breath and cough up blood.

Humanity is finished. This _planet_ is finished.

The blood-stained sighs of the humans as they go down one by one are such a delight. Their mutated wing beats strong, lashing out to cut down the man who turned into a beast earlier.

Only two humans are left standing, at this point.

Zack Fair and Tifa Lockhart lean heavily against each other, a mega-elixir being used to bring them both back to full health- but the worried looks on their faces give away that it was likely their last one.

Cloud-Sephiroth-Cloud grins, rising up in the air as they prepare their next attack.

_Meteorain._

The two fruitlessly try to dodge the incoming barrage, raising a wall spell in the hopes of minimizing the damage.

Useless. How useless. There is no escaping _fate._ Soon, Meteor will impact the planet, regardless of their struggles, because even if they are defeated here, if these two somehow manage to survive and take down their God form-

The Lifestream will never be able to absorb them.

In the end, they will win, regardless of what happens.

Through everything, through all the loss and the pain and the lies and the hatred, one thing has always been true.

As long as they are together, nothing can stop them. They can beat them down, they can try, oh, they can try.

Now Lockhart is down too. Only Zack remains, hands clutching his sword, as he raises his hand for a summon-

Bahamut-Zero’s beam _hurts._ Hurts more than previous attacks- and suddenly their form is crumbling, falling apart- furious screams leaving their mouths as their body destabilizes- how? How could this happen?!

It doesn’t matter. They will still be in the Lifestream when this form is gone. They will still be able to accomplish their goals, to use this planet as a vessel to travel the cosmos.

They will be together. They will conquer everything that comes at them, their souls mingled together as they are. Euphoria, even in defeat.

Meteor burns bright in the distance.

And their laughs reverberate in the Lifestream.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @Foxyinferno321


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